April 10, 2008
Lost in the Woods.
The first time Marion got lost in the King’s Forest, someone knocked her out and left her on the doorstep of the local abbey.
The second time she got lost, someone knocked her out and left her at the sheriff’s house.
The third time Marion got lost, someone tried to knock her out and failed, because she’d taken to wearing a sturdy iron helm on her trips through the Forest. Still, whoever had hit her had struck her with sufficient force to dent the helm, and Marion’s head was ringing in a rather unpleasant way.
She turned as swiftly as she was able (and was privately proud of her lack of wobble), but no one was there. Marion hmpfed and turned back in the direction she’d been traveling, pausing only briefly to lift her helm and rub her aching head.
Had she not been expecting it, the second blow might have connected. Reacting with that peculiar speed born of acute irritation, Marion spun and flung her helm at her attacker with all her might.
It connected – the muffled curse told her that much – but Marion still couldn’t see her would-be assailant. Then something blinked in the shadow of a tree, and Marion realized she could just barely make out a man-shaped outline in the bushes. Without thinking, Marion stepped towards the figure.
The tree branches shifted, and a shaft of sunlight hit the bushes, revealing a man whose brown skin and hair seemed tinged with green. Marion blinked; she’d heard the rumors of faerie folk in the woods, but they were always friend-of-a-friend stories, and so she had dismissed them.
The man, who had darted back into the shadows the minute the sunlight hit his face, paused. After a moment’s consideration, he walked towards Marion, extending her helm. “This is yours, I believe.”
Marion took back her battered helm and stuck it back on her head. “Thank you.” She looked at the stranger for a long moment. “I apologize for clobbering you with it.”
The man grinned. “It’s not quite the proper use for armor, is it? Well, then, I apologize for trying to knock you out, and for knocking you out before.”
Marion glared up at him. “That was you? Why?”
“You seem like a sensible woman, save for your penchant for getting lost. Guess.”
“You didn’t want me to see you.” It wasn’t a question. After a moment, Marion shrugged. “I can understand that, I suppose, although thanks to you, my mother now thinks I’m getting drunk at wild parties every night.”
The stranger laughed; Marion grinned, then asked, “What are you going to do with me now that I have seen you?”
“Give you directions back to your home, I guess. Like I said, you seem like a sensible woman. I do not think I have to worry about you.”
Marion nodded, and took his offered hand. “What’s your name, anyways?”
“Rob. And you are Lady Marion.”
Marion nodded again. The two walked in a companionable silence until they reached the road through the Forest.
“Here you are, Lady.”
“Thank you.”
Rob stared at her for a moment longer, then with the sudden motion of a wild animal, turned and vanished into the woods. Marion stared after him, bemused.
“So that’s the Forest’s resident thief,” she murmured, keeping diligently to the road.
